Waiting for Dessert...

This is a beautiful, beautiful story written by Christine Dallimore at We Are All Mothers. Some days, it's only imagining that dessert, meant specifically for us, that keeps me going.

"Imagine yourself dressed up in your finest clothes. You and your sweet husband are attending a dinner together in one of the nicest restaurants in town. You both have planned, waited and saved for this evening. To say the least, you are very excited! You and your husband arrive and the atmosphere is more than you expected. Everyone around you is having a good time. The chandeliers are sparkling, candles are glowing and sweet soft music is playing in the background. To your pleasant surprise you see others there you know. You are seated with them and in your heart you think there just couldn't be anything better!

The table is just exquisite. Breathtaking really. The people at your table begin to talk to you in jolly conversation. You glance at the menu and you don't even know where to begin! You look over everything slowly and carefully, especially the dessert menu! All of your life you have been hearing about this restaurant's marvellous and divine desserts. Deep in your heart, you have been looking forward to enjoying dessert the most!

Everyone at your table orders their food. For dessert they all order chocolate cake. You think, "Hey that sounds perfect. I'll have chocolate cake too please." The waiter nods in approval and quickly swifts off to put in your order. In the meantime, you are still enjoying the surroundings, the music and the company. You grab your husband's hand and sigh "Yes, life just couldn't get any better."

The food comes and everything looks just pleasing. Some of the things you tasted you really love, some of the things you didn't. Either way, you know that dessert is on its way. That thought in and of itself is just exciting! Then you see him, your waiter! Your wonderful, blessed waiter with a silver tray full of plates of chocolate cake! He comes and starts handing out plates to those you know. You look at the cake and to put it simply, it looks just divine. You're even more excited now! The waiter comes to your side and then passes you and your husband. You are shocked and think there must be some mistake. you don't know what to do, but rather than make a fuss you think, "Just wait, I will get my chocolate cake soon too."

Those that have their dessert are going on and on about how amazing the taste is. You smile, you are truly happy for them. Deep down you are anxious and their feelings only feed your curiosity and desire. Then you see the waiter again and think, "Ahhh, here he is." You notice that he starts handing out seconds and thirds to those that have already had their piece of cake. Your husband doesn't notice, he's busy chatting with the fellow next to him! Deep down though you get a sick feeling in the pit of your stomach. You know something is wrong, something is very, very wrong.

You ask the waiter, "Excuse me please. Where is my chocolate cake that I ordered"? The waiter just replies, "The baker has said that you must wait." He rushes off and not another word is said. Time goes on. You still enjoy the surroundings, the people and the conversations. All the while though, you can't get chocolate cake out of your mind. Time keeps creeping by and soon your husband notices too, "Where is our dessert?" You hold his hand and look into his loving eyes and think, "Even without chocolate cake, life is still good."

Time, however, creeps and it creeps. At moments it seems like it has even stopped. It's getting late and people are noticing you haven't received your dessert yet. Questions start arising and you just don't know how to respond. You look around other tables and notice that people are also getting their third, fourth and fifth servings of dessert. "Why" is all you have to lean upon.

You notice that others have ordered things for dessert besides chocolate cake. There is cherry pie, brownie ice cream sundaes, raspberry cheesecakes and such. They seem just as pleased, if not more pleased with their desserts and you wonder, "Should I order cherry pie too"? You talk to the waiter and he simply says, "I'm sorry ma'am, you just need to be patient and wait."

You are starting to burn inside. Despite all of your best efforts you are beginning to boil. You really want to jump on top of the table and stomp while shouting, "Where is my chocolate cake?" You don't though because you know that will get you no where! Instead you look around and notice that there are some that are refusing their chocolate cake. "It will make me fat" one says. "Ugh. I have enough already" another states. One woman, simply dumps her beautiful chocolate cake onto the floor.

As you look deeper around you, you notice there are a few others that are waiting too. Your heart goes out to them. You smile and wish there was something more you could do. You know their pain and it hurts. It really hurts.

Finally, the waiter comes and he has chocolate cake on that familiar beautiful silver platter...and he has enough for two. One for your husband and one for you! Your so elated with joy that you can't hardly stand it!!! You tell everyone at your table and they are just as happy for you. "We knew it would happen" they say. "You just needed to relax"! Little did they know that deep inside relaxing was the last thing you were feeling! You look at your husband. Tears are in both of your eyes. You carefully take a taste. It's such sweet, sweet perfection. You go to take another and just before you do the waiter comes and gently takes your plates away. "Something is wrong" he says. "Don't worry my dear, the time is soon."

There's confusion. Sadness. Anger. Above all though, you are just deeply and truly heartbroken. Heartbroken to the very core. You don't know what to do. You turn to others for support. They cry with you and too ask why. You take a deep breath and find the strength to go on. You have been given the promise that you will receive dessert. It is just not understood as to when. You decide to put your full trust in the baker. You reach far inside within yourself and find the effort to ask your husband to dance.

He looks at you and smiles..."Yes, I would love to dance with you my dear one." You both get up, leave the table and set off to dance.

As you are dancing, you get your bearings. You again begin to notice your surroundings. The beautiful surroundings that have so magically grabbed your attention in the first place. You remember the music, the sounds, the smell of the sweet flowers. You breathe. That's all you can do. You breathe and slowly begin to enjoy the moment again. Slowly, it all comes back to you. The things you love. Being with the person you love the most. The pains you have just felt are still there. Still vulnerable, but you feel life again. Yes, life is still good.

After quite a few dances, you both decide it's time to sit at your table. People still have their desserts and their chocolate cakes. Your space is still empty. You decide, however, to really focus on those around you. In doing so you find more joy. The desire for dessert is still there- but it's manageable. Time moves on.

Then suddenly, out of nowhere, your waiter appears. He has the biggest smile on his face. He is pleased to announce that you and your husband's dessert is finally here!! Your heart wells up with joy, but you're afraid too. You ask the waiter, "Will you take it away"? "No, this one was made especially for you." You smile back, hardly believing that this could be true or real. You look at it and it's not a dessert you have ever seen before. It's then that you realize that the baker has made a dessert with all of your favorite colors and flavors. Careful detail was lovingly taken into every consideration. "How did He know that this is exactly what I wanted"? The waiter just smiles and says, "Because he knows and loves you. If you look, you can see him there."

You look and at the door, through the little round window you see a gentle man with tears in his eyes. He is grinning from ear to ear and looking at you and your husband. You can't hardly see anymore because of all of the happy tears. You whisper a big "Thank You" and in your heart you feel that this simple phrase will never be enough.

You look at the people around you, they too have tears in their eyes. They too are smiling from ear to ear. Everything is so precious and tender now- even more so than when you first arrived here. It's then that you learn that the pains you have felt all along the way... the waiting, the crying, the agony....it's all been a special recipe to make this moment this much more wonderful and sacred.

In your soul you take a deep breath and slowly let out a big sigh of gratitude.

You grab your husband's hand and sigh again, "Yes, life just couldn't get any better."

What is this strange feeling?

Could it be... hope???

Thursday I went back to acupuncture. Back, but to a new place. Instead of meeting with Tim, I searched out another advocate. I found "Dr. Oh".

Unlike Tim, Dr. Oh has had experience with patients dealing with infertility. Our first appointment went very well. Dr. Oh has put me on acupuncture every week, a strict regimen of four different herbs throughout my cycle, and orders to reduce stress (we'll see how that last one goes!). His methods have resulted in 4 successful pregnancies for his patients this year. The usual length of treatment before success is 2 1/2 to 3 months.

Now I know none of this is a guarantee that it could happen for me, but something else exciting happened yesterday. I had hope! I had nearly forgotten what that felt like.

In fact, the biggest part of this whole experience was that it happened at all. For the last couple years (since my unproductive surgery), I have felt hopeless... which slid into depression. Even last year, when I first tried TCM, I felt lost in my treatment and gave up.

So, after literally years of depression, the very fact that I have picked myself up, dusted myself off, and tried again speaks volumes.

Here we go again!

Resource

I recently found a great resource for infertility and adoption information. This website includes a weekly radio show in which the topics are evenly divided between infertility treatments and adoption. I have listened to several past shows so far, and have learned a lot. She often interviews authors, REs, attorneys, etc about a variety of issues.

Creating a Family

Julie and Julia

Quick warning: If you haven't seen the movie, you might not want to read this post. I don't give too much away, but I don't want to be a spoiler.


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Before seeing this movie, I had no idea that Julia Child never had children, much less experienced infertility.


Towards the beginning of the movie, Julia and her husband are walking the streets of France. A woman walks by pushing a baby carriage. Those of us who have experienced infertility, or who knows someone who has, will recognize the longing look Julia gives the carriage as it passes by.


That exchange happened in a fraction of a second. But in that second, it hit me like a ton of bricks. Julia never had children. Julia couldn't have children.


I quickly looked at Ryan, shocked by the revelation. Just like a man (and I say that lovingly), he hadn't noticed the brief interaction between a barren woman and her lost dream. But I had.


This changed the entire outlook of the movie for me. As I watched Julia turn to cooking and food, and even writing as outlets, I recognized myself in her eyes. Trying to figure out your place in the world, after you've lost the role you've always wanted.


There is one scene in which Julia receives a letter from her newly married sister. Her newly married, and now pregnant, sister. Reading about her sister's pregnancy, Julia falls apart. Her husband tries to catch her, pressing her head to his chest as she cries. I looked at Ryan, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I felt like he could truly see inside my heart. Finally, he knew how I have felt over and over and over again.


I truly feel that this movie was an accurate demonstration of infertility, at least through my eyes. The determination of one woman to live through the newness of each day, and the willingness to experience a life that looks different than she ever thought it would. It was inspiring.



Oh, and speaking of inspiration, I really, really want to visit France someday too. :) Are you reading this, Ryan??? (hint, hint)

The Price We Pay

A passage read in church two weeks ago touched me greatly.

Those who aren't members of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (LDS) may not know some of the amazing stories of pioneers who made their way across the country to the Salt Lake Valley. One of the most heartbreaking was the Martin Handcart Company.

Because of the unexpected delays and other unfortunate circumstances, over two hundred members of the Willie and Martin handcart companies died before they could reach the Salt Lake Valley. None of the other handcart companies coming to the valley before or after them suffered so many problems.

Some years after the Martin company made their journey to Salt Lake City, a teacher in a Church class commented how foolish it was for the Martin company to come across the plains when it did. The teacher criticized the Church leaders for allowing a company to make such a journey without more supplies and protection.

An old man sitting in the classroom listened for a few moments and then spoke out, asking that the criticism be stopped. He said, “Mistake to send the Handcart Company out so late in the season? Yes. But I was in that company and my wife was in it. … We suffered beyond anything you can imagine and many died of exposure and starvation, but did you ever hear a survivor of that company utter a word of criticism? Not one of that company ever apostatized or left the Church, because everyone of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives, for we became acquainted with him in our extremities [difficulties].

“I have pulled my handcart when I was so weak and weary from illness and lack of food that I could hardly put one foot ahead of the other. I have looked ahead and seen a patch of sand or a hill slope and I have said, I can go only that far and there I must give up, for I cannot pull the load through it. … I have gone on to that sand and when I reached it, the cart began pushing me. I have looked back many times to see who was pushing my cart, but my eyes saw no one. I knew then that the angels of God were there.

“Was I sorry that I chose to come by handcart? No. Neither then nor any minute of my life since. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay, and I am thankful that I was privileged to come in the Martin Handcart Company.”

During our trials and struggles, do we ever look back to see who is pushing us through? I know there have been many times the angels of God have pushed me onward. How selfish I've been not to acknowledge that.

This gentleman (who had been through hell and back) stated, "Everyone of us came through with the absolute knowledge that God lives, for we became acquainted with him in our extremities. The price we paid to become acquainted with God was a privilege to pay".

Is it possible to consider my trials, including infertility, as a privilege? It takes such a strong person to think of hardships in this way. I'm afraid I am not that strong.

Although I have never experienced a fraction of the heartache felt by the Martin Handcart Company, I believe in the last six years I have come to know God more now than I ever have before.

And for that, I am grateful.

Thank you

For those who have left supportive comments, sent me private emails, or called to encourage me over the last week or so, I just want to say thank you.

I have mentioned it several times before: I never started this blog to receive sympathy or comments. It is a place to laugh and cry about the world of infertility. Someday, I hope my children will read this and know how much they are loved.

All of the support and encouragement that has come my way as a result of this blog has been unanticipated, but gratefully received. I fear I will never repay you for all the times you have lifted me up over the years. Some of you are dear, dear friends, while others I will never meet face to face. Regardless, you have touched my life and I am forever indebted. Thank you!

Thanks for Dropping By, Please State Your Name

I should consider myself fortunate that I went three years without hurt feelings, or even so much as a heated debate, on my blog. You know, when I first started this blog it was on a website that didn’t allow comments. The only reason I began writing was to avoid the face-to-face questions (what treatments are you doing, are you pregnant yet, etc) from friends or family. It was just to let these people keep up with my progress. Then, I had to stop treatments because they were just plain too expensive. And that’s when I really started pouring my heart out on here.

I moved my blog to another site, and allowed comments. Friends would leave encouraging words, and I took comfort in that. Then one day I discovered I wasn’t alone out there. Other people had blogs that talked about the same things mine did! It was so exciting. For some people, sending an email or leaving a comment was the first time they talked about their infertility to someone besides their spouse. They took comfort in my blog, and I theirs. So, when I moved my blog to blogspot, and noticed I could make people sign in to leave comments, I decided not to go that route. It was nice to have an open, supportive forum to share together.

I feel the anonymous comment left on September 9th (“Anonymous #1”) was not done to hurt me. On the other hand, I strongly feel that the person who made that comment does not know me personally. If she does, then she doesn’t know me well.

I try to bend over backwards to show love and compassion to mothers on a daily basis, sometimes to my own detriment. I firmly believe, if someone didn’t know I had infertility, they would not be able to tell by how I treat those around me. That is my goal at least. I make that decision every day. And then, on a day where I was at my lowest of lows, pouring my soul out, I am told to be kinder than necessary. That just broke my heart.

Looking back at my posts, a truly anonymous comment is rare. If the commenter felt okay with what she had to say, why didn’t she give her name? I was left to wonder: Who was she? Did I know her personally? Had I offended her in some way?

I say this with respect and love… Infertility is hard enough without having to answer those questions as well. Infertility is hard enough without having mystery people tell you to see things from the other side, and chastise your friends when they are trying to hold you up. I don’t know how many times I can say this: I understand motherhood is hard! I know that someday I will have trials greater than this one! So now that I’ve said that, please give me this little part of the internet oblivion to release my deepest thoughts, and gain comfort from those who know me or are also experiencing this infertility nightmare.

This blog is my solace. No one is perfect. I never thought I was.

For Anonymous #2: Those close friends in my life, the ones who have held my hand through every trial and wiped every tear, they knew how that comment would make me feel. They came to my defense; that was their intent. They were trying to make it a little easier on me. They are good people.

The remarks made on this blog in the last few days have caused me to question my comment set-up. As much as it saddens me, I am removing the anonymous option. There is now a sign-in required to leave a comment.

The Reason Why

For several reasons, yesterday was a long and emotional day. Now, with the clarity of a good night’s sleep and some deep soul searching, I think I have found the primary reason the statements in my post below hurt so much (i.e., ‘Enjoy ______ now, because you won’t get to do it when you have kids.’).

It has nothing to do with the person saying it. It is something inside me that breaks when I hear those things. And while I do, 100%, agree with what I wrote that day, I think the true pain lies much deeper.

I am a busy gal, but with a husband who works nights and most weekends/holidays, there is a lot of time spent alone. There was a time when I would spend most of that time crying or simply sitting on the couch staring into space for hours. During that time, I found no joy in the things I used to love. I was depressed.

Now I feel better, and I have re-discovered those things I enjoy. I have filled up lonely holidays or Friday nights with cooking or baking or writing or scrapbooking or any of the other activities I forgot I loved. I feel like a person again.

So when someone reminds me that I only have time to do these things because I don’t have children, it’s like ripping a scab off an open wound. I would love to be taking my kids to the park on a holiday (or even nagging them to clean their room!) or making pizzas and watching a movie on a Friday night. But I don’t have those options. I am trying to make the best of what I have.

I do enjoy sleeping in on a Saturday, or reading a book on a Sunday afternoon. I am sorry if that makes moms feel jealous. But while they are jealous of those free hours I get, I yearn on an hourly basis for the lives they are living.

A person commented in the post below that things are difficult as a mom. She mentioned that you are now tied to someone else’s schedule, money is tighter, nerves are more raw. What she isn’t realizing is that I am already living that life in my own way.

Have you ever spent six years “scheduling” sex, and seen what that does to a marriage? Have you ever excused yourself from a business meeting at a specific time to go to the bathroom and give yourself a shot in the stomach? And then try to return as if nothing happened? Have you ever filled yourself full of hormones and experienced what that does to nerves? Undergone surgery only to find no answers? Let someone stick needles all over your body as you lay there choking tears back because you feel this is your last hope? Spent thousands of dollars trying to become a mom to no avail? Understood that it will cost $12,000 for a treatment that has a greater chance of not working, than working? Seen friends of yours wait years for a birth mother to choose them for adoption and wonder if that will be you too?

I have experienced all these things and more. I guarantee I have been tied to schedules, money’s been tight, and nerves have been raw. I am not saying my path is any more difficult than anyone else’s. In fact, I know my battle is a small one compared to others I have seen. Even so, just as the commenter said, everyone is fighting their own battle.

I don’t need to be reminded that my life is different than most married women my age. I don’t need to be reminded how my life would be different with children. I have spent hours on my knees begging to experience it for myself. I am trying to move on.

And that is the reason these statements hurt.